Say Goodnight, Not Goodbye
by Tonya
Summary: Nine years after graduation, two old friends meet up unexpectantly. (HL) [one-shot]


Title: Say Goodnight, Not Goodbye

Author: Tonya

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nada. Zip. All characters belong to the uber talented JK Rowling.

Pairing: Harry/Luna

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Two old friends meet up.

-----------

"You should have at least one drink, mate."

The man in question shook his head in response, his unruly black hair falling into his eyes. He made no move to brush away the strands as his eyes carefully scanned over every face in the pub. He wasn't here to drink and have a good time; he was here to do a job. The job he'd practically spent his entire youth training for. The job of an Auror.

Harry Potter and his partner Jason Mitchell had received information that this pub happened to be a frequent drinking spot of three Death Eaters they had been trying to capture for months. For the past two nights, they had been sitting and waiting, and Harry was becoming restless. He reached up and rubbed his scar absently, his eyes never once stopping their careful scrutiny of anyone in his field of vision.

After his defeat of Voldemort in his seventh and final year at Hogwarts, Harry had naively believed that the profession of Auror would become useless, nonexistent. He had even debated taking up the offer from the Chudley Cannons to play professional Quidditch, but he quickly saw the error in assumptions as issue after issue of The Daily Prophet hit the stands. In each, it was very evident that even with their dark leader gone, the remaining Death Eaters continued on with his mission viciously. This time, however, it was more than simply carrying on Voldemort's legacy. This time it was revenge for their fallen leader. This time they wanted the blood of every single person involved with the defeat of their Dark Lord.

And just as Harry was beginning to feel he had finally been released of his "marked man" title, he found that his friends—all the people who had aided him in battle—had become just that.

Marked.

For the past nine years, Death Eaters had been methodically tracking down members of Harry Potter's Golden Army (as The Daily Prophet had referred to them on occasion). For nine years, they had been killing off people with whom he had spent his adolescence. For nine years, the Aurors—himself included—had been hunting the Death Eaters in the same fashion that the Death Eaters had been hunting them.

"Can we get two more firewhiskies over here?"

Harry shot Mitchell a look of disapproval that would have made Hermione proud. "I told you I wasn't drinking," he snapped, his voice tired, dark.

"You want to blend in or not, Potter?" his partner replied, running a hand through his spiky blond hair. "Standing out is not in our best interest here."

Harry scowled. "Did you forget who you're sitting with, Mitchell? I stand out anywhere."

Harry had long lost his trademark glasses. Shortly after officially becoming an Auror, he had decided on getting his eyesight corrected. He felt safer, more confident in battle, knowing that he wouldn't have to worry about keeping tabs on his glasses. But even without the glasses and wearing his unruly hair shaggier than he had during his youth, people still stared in awe when he passed them on the street. If he had believed he was a reluctant celebrity when he was younger, he could definitely wager that he was one now. Besides the Daily Prophet, which had an annoying habit of running articles on him on what seemed like a monthly basis, the wizarding world's idea of tabloids also enjoyed taking pictures and prying into his life.

Where does the infamous Harry Potter live? What does the infamous Harry Potter do in his spare time? What pretty woman is the infamous Harry Potter shagging this week?

Harry had learned to accept years ago that he would always be the Boy Who Lived to Defeat Voldemort.

The waitress returned with their drinks, and Mitchell immediately grabbed his and took a large gulp. "I remember who you are, mate, which is more the reason for you to drink up like normal folk," Mitchell replied. "Who sits around a pub sober?"

"Someone with a job to do."

Mitchell grunted into his bottle in response. With his own grunt in rebuttal, Harry finally took hold of the remaining bottle of firewhiskey. He nursed the bottle, savoring the taste even as his eyes continued to scan the pub.

It was quite the active establishment, more active than Harry expected. People were gathered at the bar, cheering on their favorite team as a late night re-airing of a football game played on the large television over the bar. Others were gathered at the tables and booths on the floor, talking animatedly with their friends, and others (mostly young couples) danced together on the small dancefloor. This wasn't the type of place that Harry imagined three Death Eaters coming to enjoy a drink or two.

Hiding in plain view, Harry thought with a frown.

Mitchell stood, his chair scraping loudly across the floor. "I'm going to the john."

Harry smirked. "I'll make sure to put that in the report," he replied snidely.

Mitchell flipped him off in response and turned to make his way through the ocean of people and to the bathrooms. Harry chuckled under his breath, watching his partner disappear amongst the people gathered together on the floor. As his gaze began its methodical scan again, he noticed a face he hadn't seen during his previous search.

The young blonde sat in a booth by herself, a half-empty bottle of firewhiskey sitting next to a journal in which she was presently scribbling. He studied her with a tilt of his head, wondering what kind of person would come to a rather loud pub to work so meticulously. He was about to turn his attention elsewhere (odd behavior or not, she wasn't one of the Death Eaters in question and thus did not merit such studying), but then the blonde reached up and adjusted something behind her right ear.

A wand.

Harry laughed quietly and sipped from his drink. It'd been years since he'd seen such odd wand placement. Not since he'd last seen—

Harry coughed hard as his drink went down the wrong way. His eyes teared up and he coughed harder, but his mind was too focused on the blonde to take note of the way his chest was beginning to burn.

He had kept in touch with very few people from Hogwarts. After Ron's death during the fight against Voldemort, Hermione had become the only one who had been there by his side from day one. And to this day, she was still his voice of reason, his touchstone. Much like with Hermione, Harry kept in constant contact with the Weasleys. He had feared that they would shun him after Ron's death. He had blamed himself for the lost of his other best friend, and he thought that they would feel the same. However, he had thought wrong. The Weasleys had continued to welcome him into their home and their lives, treating him in the same loving manner that they had always done. They were, after all, the family he had never had.

The others he had lost contact with through the years. Partly because his job kept him constantly busy and moving about and also because he didn't know what to say to them anymore. He had grown up with them, fought alongside them, and yet every time he grabbed a piece of parchment to write one of his old Hogwarts schoolmates, he found himself staring at a blank paper before finally putting it away again.

He had honestly started to believe that he wouldn't see or hear from any of them ever again, and he had sadly accepted that fate. It seemed fitting that their contact with each other would end since that chapter of his life had finally closed.

Or so he had thought.

Harry was on his feet and making his way across the pub even before his mind could register what he was doing. He approached the booth, watching as Luna ran the feather of her quill gently over her pink lips, obviously lost in thought.

It had been nine years since he had laid eyes on her, and in those nine years, she had somehow changed without actually changing. His last image of her had been of a sixteen-year-old girl with straggly dirty blonde hair, a butterbeer necklace around her neck and radish earrings dangling from her ears. That awkward girl had evolved into the surprisingly stunning woman who sat in front of him. The straggly hair was still down to her waist, but now it was sleeker, shinier. The butterbeer cap necklace had been replaced by a necklace of tiny blue stars and moons with matching crescent moon earrings dangling from her ears.

"Luna?"

His own voice sounded distant upon his ears as he stood before this ghost from his past.

Luna looked up instantly at her name. Her silver eyes studied him with a look of awe before a wide smile spread across her face.

"Harry!"

Before he could say anything, Luna was on her feet and embracing him happily. Harry froze for a moment, not sure where to place his hands on the blonde's slender body. He and Luna had formed a tentative friendship during his final years at Hogwarts, but he had never assumed they had been close enough for this form of greeting.

The shock wearing off, he finally hugged her back with a nervous laugh. "Nice to see you again too, Luna."

Luna pulled away, her palms flat against his chest as she beamed at him. "I was just thinking about you," she stated in that dreamy voice of hers.

"Me?" he choked out, suddenly acutely aware of his own hands which continued to linger around her hips.

Luna nodded. "Everyone, really. I was writing a letter to Ginny." She motioned towards the journal she had been writing in. "It's very good to see you, Harry."

She continued to smile brightly at him as she finally took her seat again. Harry glanced over at his abandoned post, noting that Mitchell had yet to return, and then sat down across from Luna with a slight smile.

He'd go back to his job in a bit. Right now, he wanted to catch up with an old friend.

"I didn't know you lived around here," he said.

"Oh, I don't technically," she replied, running a finger down the open page of her journal. "I'm here on business."

"Business?"

"I split my time between writing articles for Daddy and doing photography for other publications. I'm renting a flat in town so I can work on an assignment."

Harry frowned a bit, his mind returning to the local dangers to all those who had once been associated with him. "Luna, this may not be the best place for you right now."

"Death Eaters," she stated casually.

Harry blinked.

"That's why you're here," she continued with a nod. "Tracking them."

"You don't seem concerned."

Luna took a sip from her bottle before replying. "I'm as concerned as I need to be, Harry."

Harry's frown only deepened. He had admired her ability to be nonchalant about everything in school, but now, it was starting to get under his skin. Being nonchalant back then meant nothing. Now, it meant death if she wasn't careful.

"Luna, you're marked. Your name is on their list right along with mine."

"And I've been quite fine so far."

"You should still be careful," he continued. "Alert."

"And I am," she nodded. "I learned the importance of that from you."

Harry smiled despite himself, realizing that he couldn't exactly stay annoyed at someone like Luna. Luna returned his smile before glancing at her watch. When her eyes met his again, a frown had replaced the previous warm smile.

"I'd love to catch up more, Harry, but it's getting late, and I have an early day tomorrow."

Harry watched as she slipped her belongings into a dark gray satchel with blue trim.

Always a Ravenclaw, Harry mused with a smile.

She stood, swinging her satchel over her shoulder and adjusting her wand once more. Her bright smile from earlier returned, and her eyes twinkled in a way that Harry had to admit he had missed seeing.

"I hope we can keep in touch, Harry."

Harry nodded, standing. "I'm not exactly the world's best pen pal."

She shrugged casually. "Things can change."

"I suppose they can."

Luna hugged him again, and this time, he returned the warm embrace without hesitation. "Stay safe, Harry," she said, her breath warm against his ear.

"I always am."

Luna gave him a final squeeze before releasing him. "Night, Harry."

"Night, Luna."

She smiled and gave him a small wave before starting away. He turned to watch her leave, and after a few seconds, he called out to her. Luna turned to his voice as he quickly approached her. He stepped close to her, speaking quietly as not to be overheard.

"I know you feel safe, Luna, but can you do me a favor?"

She simply studied him with those piercing eyes of hers.

"Don't come here anymore." He frowned at how harsh those words sounded. "They frequent this spot, and if they saw you and I wasn't here—"

"Then I'll simply be here when you're here," she said in a serious tone.

"Luna," he frowned.

She gave him a crooked smile to show she had only been teasing. "If it'll put your mind at ease, I won't come here anymore."

"It would," he nodded.

Luna returned the nod. "Then you won't see me here."

"Thank you."

Luna simply smiled and turned. Harry watched her until she disappeared out the door of the pub, and he fought the urge to follow after her to make sure she made it to her destination okay.

Hermione would call it being overprotective. He would call it being safe.

When Harry finally returned to his table, Mitchell was already there, nursing on his third bottle. Harry took his seat, ignoring the sideways glance from his partner.

"Who's the blonde?" Mitchell asked after a long moment of silence in which he had apparently expected Harry to share his news without prodding.

"Who?" Harry asked as casually as possible.

"The one you were cozying up to in my absence, mate."

Harry sipped from his bottle. "An old schoolmate."

Mitchell nodded. "You shag her?"

Harry shot him a look of disdain. "What about the phrase old schoolmate did you not understand?"

Mitchell scoffed, amused at Harry's reaction. "Yeah because the infamous Harry Potter didn't have raging hormones as a teenager," he replied sarcastically.

Harry narrowed his eyes at his partner, frowning.

His hormones had definitely gotten the best of him at times during his teenage years, which was, quite honestly, to be expected. Hormones were the reason for his infatuation with Cho Chang in his fourth and fifth years. Hormones were the reason for his ill-fated relationship with Hermione in his sixth and seventh years (until they both realized that they were much more compatible as friends). Hormones, however, never allowed him to view Luna Lovegood that way.

She had always been and continued to be simply Luna.

"Luna was just a friend," he finally said before taking another sip from his bottle.

"Pity," Mitchell smirked.

Harry simply rolled his eyes and finished off his drink. He had more important things to do than sit around and answer prying questions delivered by his annoying partner, especially when the questions centered around a non-existent sexual relationship with a girl from his adolescence.

Harry crossed his arms and focused his attention back on the patrons in the bar, returning to what he had come here to do tonight.

His job.

Luna sat at her desk and pulled out a muggle stationery set that Hermione had given her years ago upon her graduation from Hogwarts. She only used the paper (which was light purple and framed by vines with light pink blossoms) on special occasions, normally when she wrote letters to Ginny over the years.

She reached down beside her desk, removing her journal from her satchel. She opened to the page on which she had begun Ginny's letter, noting that she had stopped mid-thought upon Harry's arrival at her table.

It had been really nice to see him again, to see with her own eyes that he was doing fine. Even after nine years, she had instantly recognized him. Despite his taller, leaner frame. Despite his lack of glasses. Despite the shaggier hair which hid his trademark scar much better than any of the styles of his youth. She recognized him so quickly because even after nine years, his green eyes were as vivid as she remembered.

For a moment, Luna debated not mentioning her encounter with Harry in her letter, fearing Ginny's return to her teenage persona upon hearing the news. Ever since the summer after their fourth year, the year in which she had met Harry and the others and fought alongside them at the Department of Ministry, Ginny had made a sport of teasing Luna about having a potential crush on the boy. But even with the redhead's insistent poking and prodding, Luna never admitted to such feelings even if they had been, in fact, true. She would only offer up a "he's a very nice person" when prodded by her friend.

Luna had to admit that she had a tendency to ask about Harry in her letters, but that was only because she knew that Ginny had consistent contact with him. And if she wanted to keep up with his life post-Hogwarts, Ginny would be the one with that information.

Luna continued to stare at her paper, rapping her Muggle pen against the smooth surface of her desk. With a nod, she decided against mentioning her encounter in the pub and began to scrawl her letter onto her fancy stationery.

-----------

"So you gonna pay her a late night visit?"

Mitchell pulled open the door to the inn, glancing over his shoulder at Harry as he stepped inside. Harry gave an irritated sigh as he followed behind him.

"You have a very disturbing infatuation with my sex life."

Both men nodded at the night manager at the front desk as they passed and began to climb the stairs to the second floor.

"Potter, I've known you for five years now, and I have yet to actually meet or hear about one of these girls you have your little escapades with."

"My escapades," Harry smirked. "Right."

"Hey," Mitchell laughed. "That's what the articles call it."

Harry chuckled under his breath as he reached the door to his room. He removed his key from the pocket of his duster, Mitchell stopping at the door across from his and doing the same.

"Just for future reference?" Harry replied, slipping his key into the lock. "I don't go around laying random women every night." He pushed the door open. "See you in the morning."

Mitchell smirked with a nod. "Night, Potter."

With a shake of his head, Harry entered his room. Pulling his wand from the inside of his duster, he placed it carefully on the nightstand by his bed. He shrugged off his duster and tossed it onto the lounge chair in the corner of the room.

"Escapades," he muttered to himself.

Harry didn't claim to be a saint, not in the least. He hadn't had a true relationship since Hermione—due to a mixture of no time for one and not wanting to drag an innocent woman into the mayhem that was his life. However, not being in a relationship had not kept him from interacting with the opposite sex. He was only human after all. But as he had just told his partner, a few flings here and there didn't exactly equate to nightly shagfests with the infamous Harry Potter as the tabloids liked to report.

He sighed, kicking off his shoes.

If that's what people wanted to believe he spent all his free time doing, then so be it. He had more important things to worry about. Like the Death Eaters trying to kill off his friends one by one.

Harry pulled off his shirt, catching a faint scent of lavender as he pulled the fabric over his head. For a moment, he thought he imagined the smell and lifted his shirt to his nose, inhaling carefully. Sure enough, the faint fragrance lingered on his clothing.

Luna must have been wearing perfume.

He didn't remember the fragrance upon hugging her, but with all the other aromas lingering in the pub, it would have been hard to note such a mild fragrance.

Harry chuckled quietly to himself as he placed his shirt at the foot of his bed. He never thought Luna would be the type to wear a mild fragrance. During their time at Hogwarts, she had always been about standing out from the crowd. Being unique. Being the outsider. Tonight, however, she'd simply been another pretty face in the pub. A pretty face with a wand behind her ear and writing in a journal, but she had still managed to blend in to a certain point.

Apparently adulthood had changed them all, and even a free spirit like Luna had not been an exception to the rule.

Harry pulled off his jeans, tossing them on the floor at the foot of his bed unceremoniously. With a deep exhale, he fell back onto his bed, glad to be off his feet and away from all the buzzing and noise of the pub. He groaned as he realized he faced another night there and possibly a few more after that. Until the Death Eaters showed, and they captured them. Or until he and Mitchell gave up on their recent tip and turned their attention elsewhere.

Tossing his arm across his face, Harry tried to clear his mind of all thoughts so that he could finally rest. The last thought that lingered in his mind before he slipped into unconsciousness was of the familiar blonde sitting by herself and writing in her journal.

-----------

Bang!

Harry awoke with a start, his senses automatically kicking into gear as he sat up and grabbed his wand off his nightstand. He sat perfectly still for a moment, his wand arm tense and his eyes fixed on the door to his room.

The banging began again, and Harry silently cursed himself as he realized it was only someone knocking rather hard on his door. With a growl, he pulled himself from the bed and stumbled towards the door, his wand still at hand.

Still only in his boxers, he pulled the door open to see a fully dressed Mitchell standing on the other side.

"Trying to wake everyone on the bloody floor?" Harry asked, frowning.

"Just the ones sleeping past one," Mitchell replied, handing Harry a sheet of paper he had been holding.

Harry raised an eyebrow at him. "What's this?"

"There was an attack late last night." He paused, rethinking that. "Well, early this morning if you want to be technical. About 3am."

"Dammit," Harry hissed, finally reading over the letter. As his eyes skimmed over the memo describing the details of the attack, including the description of the victim, Harry felt his heart drop in his chest. "Wait…"

"What?" Mitchell replied with a curious expression.

"The description. Blonde. Mid-twenties. Light-colored eyes." Harry looked up, trying to reel in his fears.

Mitchell studied him cautiously before responding. "Your old schoolmate?"

"Luna," Harry nodded, swallowing hard. He looked down at the memo, scanning it again. "They don't give a name. Why the bloody hell isn't there a name?!"

Mitchell glanced up and down the hallway to make sure Harry's loud question hadn't woken any of the other people on their floor. He spoke quietly, hoping that Harry would take a cue from his present tone. "They sent it to us as soon as they found out. They hadn't identified the body yet."

"When did you get this?" Harry demanded, his voice dropping to the most suitable level he could manage at the present.

"Just now. I woke up and went to the front desk to see if either of us had gotten anything in the post. It arrived as I was coming down the stairs."

Without saying a word, Harry turned and made his way to his closet, tossing the memo and his wand onto his desk as he passed. He began hastily pulling clothing from their hangers as Mitchell hovered at the threshold of his door, watching him. He finally stepped inside, closing the door, as Harry pulled on a clean pair of dark jeans.

"How far from here is the place where the attack happened?"

Mitchell crossed his arms. "Maybe twelve miles. Give or take." He continued to watch Harry button up his shirt hurriedly. "Potter, we're sure to get the name soon. They've already handled it."

Harry nodded, strolling past him and towards the bed where he had kicked off his shoes the night before. "I'm just going to take a look at the place." He sat on the edge of his bed, pulling on his trainers.

"Potter," Mitchell frowned. "The Ministry already has people handling it. It's not our job. We don't deal with the bodies; we deal with the people who put the bodies there."

Harry stood and approached his partner. "I need to know if it's her or not, and I'm not going to sit around and twiddle my thumbs while they decide to ID the body."

Mitchell only nodded, knowing that once Harry got an idea in his head, there was no way to talk him out of it. "Fine, I'll come with you then."

Harry shook his head as he walked over to the chair in the corner and grabbed his duster. "No. You stay here in case they send any new information."

"Are you ordering me?" Mitchell replied with a raised eyebrow.

"I do have seniority here."

"Bullshit," Mitchell barked. "One year longer on the job doesn't equal seniority. We're on equal ground here."

"Whatever, but you're still not coming along. This is something I need to do by myself." Harry pulled on his jacket with a sigh. "Just let me do this, Jason."

Mitchell studied him for a moment before finally giving a nod.

"Thank you."

With that, Harry quickly turned and made his way out of the room, leaving his partner standing alone in silence.

-----------

Harry had spent the majority of his afternoon trying to find out more information on the dead blonde in hopes to disprove his fear that she was actually Luna. Finding information on the anonymous victim proved harder than expected, but luckily, the information for Luna Lovegood was much more forthcoming. He had had to pull a few strings (using his infamous name did come in handy at times), but he had managed to find the flat that Luna was leasing locally.

When Harry finally arrived on her doorstep, the sun was already beginning to set into the horizon. Pulling a slip of paper from his jacket, he verified the address before knocking on the door. He waited patiently for her to pull open the door and give him her trademark dreamy smile. When she didn't, however, he had to remind himself that she was in town on business and quite possibly was doing just that and would return later. He glanced at his watch, noting the time. He didn't know what sort of hours she was pulling recently, but she'd have to be home soon.

With a final glance at her door, he started out of the building. He decided he would circle the block once, to not only give Luna more time to show (hopefully) but to also keep himself from going back to his own room and being engulfed by his thoughts and fears.

Growing up, he had never wanted his friends involved in his destined battle with Voldemort. If he had had his way, they would have been far away from him when the time had come, but he knew his friends. And he'd known that they'd stand by his side until the end, even if had meant their own. They, much like he, had assumed that once the battle was through, the threat to Harry and to the wizarding world as a whole would also be over.

If Harry had known that years after defeating the Dark Lord he would fear reading the Daily Prophet and seeing another familiar name claimed by the Death Eaters, he would have found someway to keep everyone he had ever known and cared for away from every aspect of his battle.

Harry lost track of time as he finished circling the block, Luna's building coming back into view. From his distance, he could see a figure walking (no, flouncing) towards the main door, and Harry could see flashes of gold as the woman's long blonde hair reflected the streetlights.

A strong sense of relief washed over Harry as he watched Luna make her way up the sidewalk. He quickly made his way over to her, and just as he opened his mouth to call her name, she turned, wand drawn. Harry quickly reached for his own to deflect whatever spell she was about to cast, but found he was too slow. A sharp pain slashed across his chest just as he had his wand drawn and up.

"Harry?!"

Harry held a hand to his torso, which throbbed painfully. Luna ran up to him, her hair flying wildly behind her. Her eyes were wide, panicked, as she stood before him.

"Oh, Harry, I didn't realize it was you!"

He shook his head in response, a hand still held to his stomach. "Not your fault. That's what I get for sneaking around your place."

Luna frowned deeply, glancing down to his hand. "I'm so sorry."

"It's…"

He almost said nothing as he raised his hand away from his stomach, but stopped short when he saw the blood on the palm of his hand. Harry glanced down to see that where he had placed his hand, blood had slowly begun to seep through his shirt.

"I shouldn't have overreacted," Luna scolded herself. She took gentle hold of his other arm, dragging him inside the building and towards her flat before he could even protest that he'd be fine.

"Luna, it's fine. Really," he said, even as his wound continued to throb.

Luna fished her keys from her satchel and opened her door. "No, it's not. I could have really hurt you."

She stepped in, and after a moment of hesitation, Harry followed. She hastily tossed her satchel onto the couch in her front room, still quietly scolding herself under her breath as she did so. Slowly closing it, Harry continued to linger near the door, watching Luna disappear down a connecting hallway.

When she was gone, he lifted up his shirt to see the damage for himself. A long diagonal slash, just above his belly button, cut into his skin. It wasn't deep enough to be anything truly serious, but it was deep enough for it to continue its slow oozing of blood.

A typical slashing spell, which Harry was glad had been delivered by someone with the self restraint Luna possessed, or he may have had the unfortunate experience of seeing his insides on the outside.

He quickly dropped his shirt as he heard her footfalls approaching. She returned with a first aid kit and that same apologetic look on her face. "I'm really sorry," she said again.

"Luna," Harry laughed quietly. "It's alright. Really. I've had worse."

"I'm sure you have, but that doesn't change how horribly I feel about cursing you."

She motioned to the couch, and after a moment, Harry shrugged off his jacket, trying not to get blood on it in the process and sat down, placing his jacket beside him on the couch. She followed after him, placing her first aid kit on the edge of the coffee table situated in front of the couch. She pushed the table back a bit, giving herself enough room to kneel on the floor between Harry's legs.

Harry held his breath as she situated herself in front of him. She seemed oblivious to the implications of her actions, but Harry couldn't help but be reminded of the last time that he had found himself in this position. And, at that time, the woman in question had not been tending to any wounds.

"Next time I use a stunning spell," she said, grabbing the first aid kit and flipping it open. "Much less damage."

She reached a hand out to unbutton his shirt, and Harry's former Seeker skills came into play as he quickly yet gently took hold of her wrist, suddenly hit with an inexplicable wave of modesty. "Luna, I'm fine. Really."

"Don't be silly, Harry," she replied, making no move to pull her wrist out of his grasp. "You really shouldn't be walking around with an open wound."

Harry finally released her wrist, realizing that this wouldn't be an argument with the woman he'd be able to win. With a nod, Luna unbuttoned his shirt, pushing it away and grimacing at the damage she had inflicted.

"It's not as bad as it looks," Harry tried to reassure her as he noted the look on her face.

"No, it's not," she said, glancing up at him. "But it's still a decent injury."

"You should be proud then," he teased.

"It's not funny," she replied in a serious tone, but the smile that played on her lips betrayed her.

Harry grinned. "Some people deal with pain through medication. I deal with it through humor."

Luna smirked at him as she retrieved a small bottle of peroxide from her kit and poured it carefully onto a stack of gauze. "Well, I'm glad that my near disemboweling of you could bring you some amusement."

She carefully placed a hand near his wound, Harry noting the warmth of her fingertips against his skin. She gently dabbed at his cut, and Harry inhaled sharply at the intense burning as the liquid made contact with his open wound.

"Sorry," Luna said quietly as she continued to carefully clean his cut.

They sat in silence for a while, she attending to his wound and he watching her as she did so. Every once and a while, she'd lean closer between his legs as she worked, and Harry would attempt to put a bit more distance between them. However, there was only so far he could scoot back into the cushions of the couch before there was nowhere left to go. Luna still paid no heed to the suggestiveness of their situation, or if she was, she was doing a better job of hiding it than he could muster at the moment.

Harry finally broke the silence as she began to place clean dressing over the wound. "Who did you think I was? When you cursed me?"

Luna finally looked up at him, and Harry saw something different in her eyes. Something he couldn't quite place. "No one," she said simply, dropping her eyes again to her task at hand.

"Luna?" he asked, watching her curiously.

Her fingers froze over his stomach but she still didn't look up to meet his gaze. "Someone followed me home the other night."

Harry instantly thought of the dead blonde that he had feared had been her.

"Who?"

"I don't know," she said, placing more dressing over his wound. "I made it inside before I could see who it was."

Death Eaters, Harry thought with a frown.

Luna finished taping down his dressing, gently running her fingers across the tape to secure it. "I suppose that's why I overreacted tonight."

"You didn't overreact," Harry stated with a shake of his head. He leaned forward, speaking gently and all previous thoughts about their close proximity disappearing. "You reacted the right way. You didn't know it was me until you turned, and if I had been a Death Eater, your curse would have given you the opportunity to either escape or finish the job."

Luna finally looked up, meeting his eyes. "I had honestly made myself believe that I had left all this behind once I had left Hogwarts."

"All this?"

Luna stood with a nod. "The blood. The pain. The curses." Her back to Harry, she gathered all the items to her first aid kit and slipped them back inside before snapping the lid into place. "I suppose I enjoyed living in denial."

She started down the hallway, and instinctively, Harry jumped to his feet and followed her. When she turned and entered into her bedroom, Harry stopped, lingering in the doorway. He watched as she placed the first aid kit inside a trunk at the foot of her bed.

"It seems naivete is both a blessing and a curse." She gently lowered the trunk lid back into place.

"Luna," he said gently, finally stepping into her room, "you're not naïve."

She turned to him with a wisp of a smile. "And you're a horrible liar."

He stepped up to her. "I'm not lying. If you don't think all you did during your days at Hogwarts doesn't make you naïve, look at tonight. You acted on your instincts. Whether it turned out to be me or not, you listened to your gut and protected yourself." He studied her as she dropped her gaze from his again. "That's not naïve. That's smart."

"Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure," she recited from the school sorting song neither had heard in years.

Harry laughed quietly. "Yeah, something like that."

Luna looked up with a serene smile. "Would you like some tea? The least I can do for nearly gutting you."

Harry nodded. "I'd like that."

She smiled more brightly and made her way out of the room, Harry following her towards the kitchen.

-----------

"I didn't know you were interested in photography."

Harry and Luna sat out on the small balcony outside her bedroom. They sat nearly shoulder to shoulder on the floor, each holding a cup of tea to warm them against the cooling night air.

Luna smiled and sipped from her cup before speaking. "It's much like writing, really. It's just a different way of telling a story." She studied him with a tilt of her head. "I must admit that this wasn't the career I saw in your future. Especially after your defeat of Voldemort."

Harry turned to her as she continued.

"You were always quite the Quidditch player. Rumor was that you received a lot of offers."

Harry nodded and frowned slightly, the memory of having to turn down every single one of those offers returning. "I was," he finally said after a moment. "But I had more important things to do. Like protect my friends."

"Not exactly fair," Luna replied, a frown on her own lips. "To be forced to live your life for others and never yourself."

Harry shrugged heavily. "It's what I do, Luna. It's who I am. I can't sit and let my friends suffer for who I am. I won't."

Luna nodded, a sad smile on her face. "Because you're the hero."

Harry bristled at that word. Hero. He had hated the word during his Hogwarts days when he felt he had done nothing to deserve that title. And even after his defeat of Voldemort, the word still felt misused when in reference to him.

He wasn't a hero. He was simply a boy, a man, who had dealt with the obstacles fate had placed before him.

"I'm not a hero, Luna."

"You're just Harry, then?"

Harry nodded and sipped from his cup. "Yeah, something like that."

Silence engulfed them for a moment as they both stared out into the night sky. Luna was the first to break the comfortable silence.

"Why are you here, Harry?" She rethought that statement with a frown. "Not that I don't enjoy having your company, but why did you come here tonight?"

He hesitated, gripping his cup a bit tighter in his hands. "There was a death last night. The victim—she had your description."

"Death Eaters?" she asked, her frown deepening.

"Seems that way, but we could be wrong." He sighed quietly. "I hope we're wrong."

Luna watched him quietly for a second before finding her voice again. "You don't think—"

"That they thought she was you?" he finished, and Luna nodded. "It's possible, yeah."

"Who was she?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't stick around long enough to get a name."

"You panicked," Luna nodded.

"I wouldn't call it panicking."

Luna smiled slightly. "You panicked, Harry. Why else would you show up on my doorstep?"

He returned the smile with another shrug of his shoulders. "I was worried, yeah. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"And I am."

"As my gaping wound can attest to," he teased.

"Would you like a second gaping wound to match that one?" she asked casually and sipped from her drink.

He smirked over at her. "No, one's quite enough." His smirk faded away as he spoke again. "I want you to go home, Luna."

She simply stared at him, her cup raised to her lips.

"I've enjoyed seeing you and everything, but it's getting too dangerous around here," he continued with a frown. "I realize you have a job to do, deadlines to meet, but I think we'd both prefer to see you alive."

Luna finally lowered her cup, her silver gaze still locked on him. "It worries you that much?"

"I don't want to open the Daily Prophet and see your name."

She studied him a moment longer before giving a small nod. "I was done with my assignments anyway. The perfectionist in me was simply trying to get everything proper." She paused long enough to sip from her now cool tea. "I'll leave in the morning."

Harry smiled sadly. "I do wish you could stay around, Luna. You're a far better conversation than my partner."

Luna returned the smile. "I wish I could stay around as well."

Harry glanced down at his watch, his mentioning of Mitchell reminding him that he had left his partner hours ago. He sighed heavily as he looked up at Luna, who had gone back to studying the stars. "I should probably head back before Mitchell thinks I've gotten myself killed."

Luna turned to him with a wisp of a smile. "You came quite close tonight."

"Yeah, I did," he laughed quietly as he got to his feet. He offered Luna his free hand, and she looked at it for a moment before slipping her own into his, allowing him to pull her to her feet.

"I'll have to tell Ginny I ran into you," she said as they made their way back inside. She took the empty cup from Harry's hands and placed both their drinks on her dresser as they passed.

"How is she? I haven't had a chance to check in with the Weasleys recently."

"She's well. We're supposed to be meeting for lunch next week."

They entered the front room to the flat, and Harry reached over the back of the couch, retrieving his jacket. He pulled it on with a smile. "Tell her I say hello if you see her before I get a chance."

Luna nodded. "I can do that." She smiled as she watched him adjust his jacket. "I really do hope we can keep in touch."

"I plan to," he replied honestly.

She gave another nod before stepping up to him and hugging him tightly. "Take care of yourself, Harry."

"You too, Luna."

He released her with a final inhale of that lavender scent of hers. He waved goodbye before reaching out and closing the door as he stepped into the hallway. He heard the familiar click of a lock being turned into place and, satisfied, he walked away.

With the exception of their little jokes, he had almost forgotten about the wound across his chest. In all honesty, he had forgotten about everything as they sat together talking about everything that had happened to them in the past nine years. Behind that door, everything had stopped mattering. His world had only revolved around them and their connecting.

It had been a while since he had felt that way. Like he had made a true connection with another human being. A connection that didn't revolve around his job or his infamous celebrity status. But a connection based simply on the person who sat beside him knowing things before he would even say them.

All these years, he had only thought of Luna as Ginny's eccentric friend who had slowly become one of his own personal acquaintances. Tonight, however, he had come to the realization that Luna had been much more than just a simple acquaintance.

Where Hermione had been his voice of reason and logic and Ron his voice of loyalty and courage, Luna had been his voice of comfort and serenity.

Harry stopped just outside the building, throwing a look up at the balcony that belonged to Luna. He hesitated a moment before turning on his heels and making his way back into the building, back up the stairs that led to her apartment.

Once he reached her flat, he knocked on the door, and for a moment, he worried that she'd already gone to sleep. However, after waiting for what had felt like an eternity but in actuality had only been a minute or two, he heard the lock sliding out of place. Luna pulled the door open, standing before him in a plain white T-shirt that hung mid-thigh, and gave him a curious look.

"Harry?" she asked, the confusion evident on her face. "Did you forget something?"

Harry swallowed hard. "Yeah, I did."

Luna simply blinked at him.

His gut twisting in ways it hadn't in a long time, Harry stepped over the threshold, wrapping an arm around Luna's waist and bringing her closer to him with one fluid movement. She said nothing, only searched his eyes with her own. He leaned down, bringing his lips to hers.

In the back of his mind, he expected her to push him away. He expected her to fend him off and ask him what the hell he was doing. No where had he expected to feel her tongue slip past his lips.

Luna's arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers getting lost in his unruly hair. His free hand wrapped gently around the nape of her neck, keeping them close as their kiss grew deeper. She moaned against his lips as he took a few steps into the apartment, lifting her off her feet momentarily with his arm. He slammed the apartment door closed with his foot, never once breaking their embrace.

Luna broke from the kiss first, attempting to catch her breath. Her lips still lingering near his, she panted gently, her breath against his lips sending a surge down his spine.

"What is this?" she asked quietly, her eyes locked with his.

"Something I should have done a long time ago."

She smiled, but as quickly as the smile played on her lips, it began to face away. "Harry," she said, her voice soft, "I'm still leaving tomorrow."

Harry nodded slowly, removing his hand from her neck to gently brush her hair out of her face. "I know you are."

"And we've already said our goodbyes…."

"Tonight isn't a goodbye."

Harry watched her eyes search his, and then, a smile crossed her lips again. And as she pressed her lips to his, Harry was certain that he would never let a goodbye happen between them again.

-end


End file.
